Ch. 75 - Days into Weeks, Months into Years

                                    

                                          
When I woke up the next morning, it was with a lot of excitement in my heart. My fatigue melted away as I sat up, gazing down at the sleeping man beside me. As light of a sleeper as he was, he grumbled when he realized I had moved, and readjusted himself accordingly to pull his head into my lap.
"Levi," I called gently. With a grunt he ducked his face towards my leg. "Come on, now. Up we get. Today's a special day."
I gently maneuvered his arms away from me and lowered him gently back to the bed as I slid out from under the covers. With a smile I made my way over to the cradle where Emi lay, peacefully sleeping.
It was late fall, almost winter.
Today was Emiko Ackerman's very first birthday, marking her first full year of life.
Our beautiful, precious daughter had been alive for one full year – and this was only one of many. It was morning, but about time we all got up for the day.
"Good morning, sweetheart," I said as I reached in to take her into my arms. I lifted her up and held her to my chest, her blanket coming up with her. The sweet little thing's nose scrunched up as she woke up, her little hands coming up to rub her eyes.
Her eyes were comparable to Levi's, being just as pretty – if not more so – as his own pair. Even so young, she was so inquisitive, those eyes so intelligent. Her eyes held within them the ocean, that gorgeous blue of the waves as they caught the sun, or perhaps the gorgeous glow of a full moon. When her eyes fluttered open at my gentle caresses to her cheek, I was suddenly reminded of the glowing stone of that damned underground cavern. Her eyes were gorgeous, almost ethereal.
Emi's skin, much like her father's, was pale - so pale that I was scared to leave her out in the sun for too long. I'd be as worried about Levi, but his skin was tough and hardened with years of training and work in the sun. Her skin by comparison was smooth, porcelain, and oh so delicate.
There was a tiny cut, hardly a nick, that she'd gotten on her cheek while playing outside with Levi, only a few days ago. She'd cried for a few minutes, at least until Levi ran over to me with her arms. Within moments of having her in my arms she'd stop crying, with the beauty of distraction and misdirection. A band-aid was put over her battle wound, and she was back to playing and babbling happily.
Yet somehow, I was at the receiving end of a lecture about responsibility that night. Go figure.
Now, Emiko smiled up at me, that precious little smile that was perfectly gummy and showed off her impressive display of tiny teeth. The smile that we saw so many times a day because she was so open with her emotions. She smiled whenever she was me or her father, and even some of the familiar faces she'd grown accustomed to over her past year of life.
Whenever I was swamped with work or reminded of the grim reality we lived in, all I needed to do was think of her little smile, or imagine her laughing, and I'd be reinvigorated with energy. She was hope, she was happiness, she was love. She was our future. Where in the past I had fought for myself, for my own well-being and that of my comrades, I could safely say I fought for her now.
I fought for a future where she would never have to learn to use a blade. If her only need to learn how to protect herself was because of Levi's and my own paranoia, for having grown up as we did, that'd be perfectly fine by me. I only hoped that she'd never need to pick up a knife or a blade or even a gun to defend herself.
Her scars in life should only reflect fun times, reminders of times when she played too hard or was trying to push herself. She shouldn't ever trip and fall running for her life, but rather trip and fall into our arms. She shouldn't have to experience the fear of a battlefield, the stark reality of life and death of comrades. Instead, I'd be content if she'd only had to be taught about life and death when we told her about our fallen comrades.